


Snakebite & Black

by Rosse



Series: The Giant AU / Rewrite [2]
Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen, I Don't Even Know, this is dumb tbh
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-16
Updated: 2015-11-16
Packaged: 2018-05-02 00:40:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,418
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5227268
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rosse/pseuds/Rosse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Jiraiya once said, "don't you think Tsunade would be a better choice for Hokage?" and Orochimaru wondered how long Konoha would remain standing in that case."</p>
<p>AU: what if Orochimaru had never left Konoha? (Rewrite of Snakes In A Village).</p>
            </blockquote>





	Snakebite & Black

“--IDIOOOOOOOOOOOOT!”

Another day, another lunch ruined. At the table opposite him, some civilian tourist looks up with alarm at the bellow that echoes throughout the village and starts whispering furiously to his chuunin chaperone. Meanwhile, the Konoha natives don’t even flinch - the waiters continue serving, the shinobi continue to chatter meaninglessly. He hears none of it - the Filtering Jutsu does its job at turning the irritating noises into nothing, but even his beloved silencing technique (essential for working in the ever-busy village) can only do so much to silence Jiraiya’s cries. To his credit, Orochimaru rolls his eyes and continues sipping tea, rather than banging his head off the table as Tsunade might. That shout almost guarantees another building destroyed by an overenthusiastic, thirteen year old jinchuuriki sent flying into it. Agreeing to become Hokage did everything to wear Jiraiya’s patience (and he'd never had much in the first place), dragging it down to twitchy levels that would kill a lesser shinobi. Agreeing to mentor Uzumaki Naruto just brought it down faster, as it were.

He drains his tea, deliberates a moment and dispels the jutsu. The idle ramblings and buzz of the cafe wash over him as he drops change onto the table and slithers out, easily stepping through the maze of wooden tables and exhausted shinobi settled down for a quick lunch after a mission, before training, whatever they did. It takes no effort to flick his hands into a familiar seal, to expel chakra and flicker through town from the south, over rooftops and through the window of the Hokage's office. Empty, table tossed over and papers strewn everywhere. Scorch marks across the yellowed paint and the smell of burned hair in the air, Orochimaru sighs and flickers out, following the general direction of the broken window. More repairs, just what Konoha needed at this time, when the consequences of the chuunin exams still scarred parts of town.

Scaffolding, half destroyed and bent by the force of something sent flying through buildings, stands shaky and with the crude outline of a young human body right through the middle of it - it's immensely abstract but if Orochimaru tilts his head and squints just right... hm, no matter right now. A frustrating case of paperwork and speaking to the treasury ("oh, but haven't we spent enough money?" "It was Jirai-- I mean, Hokage-sama's fault, can't he pay for it?"), but he supposes it may be slightly more pressing to find the Jinchuuriki. And perhaps Jiraiya.

(The idiot.)

He follows the trail of destruction with more casual steps than most, treading carefully and surveying each additional bit of damage someone (unfortunate genin) will have to catalogue for the reports; the people around him more tuts and eye rolls than screaming and fear. Leave it to Jiraiya to make routine destruction of people's properties a normal thing, and within half a year at that.

One more street, and the stirring form of a young boy in blinding colours peeks from the midst of a wrecked bookstore. Orochimaru blinks once, visualises the whole trail of destruction and comes to the (probably correct) conclusion that their... battle lasted far beyond the Hokage's office. For the insane strength Jiraiya may have, he also had limits and this went beyond one punch. The only person capable of such destruction in one punch would be Tsunade.

(Jiraiya once said, "don't you think Tsunade would be a better choice for Hokage?" and Orochimaru wondered how long Konoha would remain standing in that case.)

"What did you do?" He hauls the boy out of the remaining rubble with the strength expected of any competent shinobi, face bland and terrifying in its boredom. Naruto doesn't flinch, he sneezes, dust kicking up and tickling his nose. For his own sake, Orochimaru imagines a face drained of all colour underneath the dirt and debris - the thought of some barely thirteen year old child being unafraid of a look that has terrified (or at least unsettled) greater shinobi does not compute.

"I- I dunno! Ero-sensei and me were practising--" Naruto rambles, arms and legs swinging madly as he’s lifted to eye level with his mentor’s advisor.

"-- and I," he corrects, watching Naruto closely, gold eyes hard and ready for any telltale signs of the pranks the boy tries to play.

"Huh?" Blink blink.

"Never mind."

"-- and his assistant tells him that some woman is here to see him. He said she was a friend!” A pause, Naruto scrunches his nose and brows in comically exaggerated thought before adding, “an actual friend."

... Crap.

A sigh hisses out from between Orochimaru’s teeth, long and suffering, the beginnings of a headache forming with a mild throb in his left temple. "What did you call her?" He grinds out, re-evaluating the destruction he’d seen and wondering where Jiraiya was in the midst of all this, that scream sounding longer and longer in his mind. Had he also gone flying?

"J-just what Ero-sensei told me to!"

"Which was?"

"... Obaa-chan." Naruto finally stops squirming, all puppy dog eyes as the realisation dawns on him - far, far too late - just how bad Jiraiya’s idea of a joke is. The murmuring down the street intensifies, sixteen year old chuunin thinking they’re stealthy enough to gossip and speculate from their positions behind bins, as Orochimaru drags a miserable looking, ashy-faced thirteen year old towards the hospital.

“If you have time to gossip, you have time to deal with the mess,” he throws over his shoulder with well-practiced, silky venom that stops the whispers in their tracks and fills the alleyway with the sound of bins clattering and falling, footsteps and the scramble of terrified teens to follow orders.

(It mollifies his ego, just a little, after the non-response of Uzumaki to his glower.)

“Hey, can I go now? I promised Sakura-chan I’d meet her,” whines Naruto, wriggling in some futile attempt to dislodge his jacket from the vice grip of Orochimaru’s claws that only succeeds in a grip so tight holes are punctured into his ultra-awesome shinobi gear. No answer other than the slowly deepening glare and tightening of snake-bastard’s face until a muscle twitches near his jaw.

… Probably not, then. But Naruto grins to himself as Orochimaru continues to look forward and ignore him. He could get out of this; it would be no problem for the best prankster in Konoha (and future Hokage, believe it!), all he needs to do is form two little seals and he’ll have a clone sat snugly in his place and a date with the cutest girl in Kono--

His fingers don’t even get close to one another before snakes wrap around his wrists until circulation seems a far off dream and a very un-Hokage-like yelp slips out of his mouth. They tighten until he can feel it in his bones and, with a grimace, Naruto chances a glance up at his captor.

… Who isn’t even looking.

“Hospital. Now.”

Naruto protests all the way there, kicking and flailing even after Orochimaru throws him over his shoulder.

* * *

A confused hospital receptionist calls over a medic-nin to assess the jinchuuriki so unceremoniously dumped on the desk as the Hokage’s senior advisor turns on his heel and wanders out, hair swaying behind him like a commercial for Seisei shampoo, glossy and unnaturally perfect compared to the dusty teenager he left for them.

* * *

He finds Jiraiya half-lodged in a tree, bruised and laughing half-heartedly, doing his best to look apologetic as the shadow of a glowering blonde stretches over him.

“Tsunade,” Orochimaru comments, glancing between the two. Tsunade stops drawing her fist back and turns her glare over to him instead. Great. “What a pleasure to see you again.”

“Stuff it, Orochi,” she growls as Jiraiya attempts to dislodge himself from the tree with creaks and groans. “Oh no you don’t!” Her fist flies and Jiraiya howls as he’s sent another fifty feet away, into the bushes. At least nothing’s changed, he muses, grabbing Tsunade by the arms and holding her back.

“I believe that’s enough.” Half a century old and acting like children, he feels older every day. Tsunade’s muscles tense against his hands but she eventually relaxes, letting her arms hang by her sides until Orochimaru lets her go. “I expected advance notice.” She huffs at his quip and waves a hand vaugely in the direction of the village, towards shops and restaurants.

“Shizune wanted to come by, while we were in the neighbourhood,” is her response, blasé and dry as the rustle and groans of Jiraiya picking his way back to his oldest friends drags her eyes away from Orochimaru's sceptically raised brow.

“Shizune said Konoha's the only place that would protect them from the debt collectors any more,” Jiraiya translates, rubbing the tender side of his cheek, where Tsuade had sent him flying into the bushes, and trying to count his broken bones.

“Shut up, idiot.” Tsunade's fist thumps down on Jiraiya's skull and Orochimaru bites back a suffering sigh.

* * *

Naruto leaves the hospital less than three hours after arriving, with the medic-nins sighing and shaking their heads, muttering to themselves about the good old days as he checks out perfectly fine yet again. It all goes over his head until they say “fine, go” and he finally, finally gets to jump up and run off.

Sakura-chan was gonna kill him. He was so, so late.

He barrels around the corner, shouting sorry to a civilian who nearly jumps out of his skin, and blazes his way down the main street in a blur of orange. Got. To. Find. Sakura. Would she still be waiting for him? Ehh... well, she waits for Kakashi-sensei. And Sasuke, that bastard. So, Naruto guesses that would be a yes. He's just gotta make it before she tries out some new genjutsu on him.

“Oi, dead last.” But that voice sends him screeching to a halt, kicking up dust and dirt as he narrowly avoids crashing into a dango stall. Sasuke leans against the wall of a bookstore, twirling a kunai around his finger with that same, insufferable blank look he always has on his face, directed squarely at Naruto. “Sakura isn't impressed. And she's gone home.”

Naruto spins around, all shock and devastation. “What, why?!” he whines, blue eyes wide and watery. The babyish pouting is quickly replaced by a glower, one that he levels directly at Sasuke. 

“Because you were late,” Sasuke deadpans, as if he can't quite believe that the explanation has to be uttered, pushing himself off the wall and turning around to head back to his apartment (Iruka-sensei, soon after Itachi's madness, had insisted to Sandaime that Sasuke shouldn't remain in the Uchiha compound, and managed to get his way) as Naruto howls and rambles about how 'it wasn't his fault' and 'that stupid baa-chan and snake bastard were conspiring, dammit!' Sasuke just shakes his head and continues past the growing crowd of onlookers, sharing the briefest of glances with Nara Shikamaru, who sits up from his place lounging on a rooftop with raised brows.

Troublesome.

* * *

“Jiraiya,” Tsunade begins, curled up on a corner of the old couch in the Hokage's office, “do you really intend on doing paperwork all night?” He huddles over a bunch of reports as she twirls her hair, devoid of any other entertainment in the tiny, rotting office. Ugh, had this place even been painted since Sarutobi-sensei was Hokage? The lingering smell of mildew seeps into her nostrils and lodges itself there, making it impossible to take a clean breath of air. Jiraiya just hums from his seat, doesn't bother to look up, and signs another document. Tsunade groans and her eyes bore a hole into the door, willing Orochimaru and Shizune to return from their trip to the basement library.

“What did you have in mind, darling?” Jiraiya finally asks, just as Tsunade was beginning to resign herself to a night of silently counting cracks in the wall, all glittering eyes and amused grin. She rolls her eyes at the pet name and hops to her feet, sashaying over to the desk.

“I could use a drink.”

Jiraiya's hands come together to make the seal for Kagebunshin before she's even finished talking, and with a quick whirl of leaves, they flicker out of the office in search of merriment.

* * *

It takes, approximately, thirty minutes before Shizune and Orochimaru are glaring down at the Hokage and the best medic-nin in the Elemental Nations and shooing the bartender away. Somehow, and Orochimaru doesn't dare to think how, Tsunade had already conned the poor man into leaving them a bottle of his best, most expensive whiskey. The kind that is only drank for image or a deep desire for your insides to burn.

Shizune breathes deeply, and grabs Tsunade by the collar with a firm yank, pulling her out of her chair.

It ends about as badly as she could have predicted, with Tsunade only somewhat intoxicated. The vein in Tsunade's temple twitches and Shizune just about ducks the glass thrown at her head as Orochimaru slides smoothly into Tsunade's vacated spot.

… This, in hindsight, was about as wise as pulling her out of it. Orochimaru finds himself dragged out by the hair before he has a chance to defend himself, the howls of Jiraiya's laughter ringing in his ears as Tsunade's fists fly into his gut and turn him into a projectile that smashes right through a civilian cart. The men dragging the thing glance at each other and back away, unable to muster up any emotion more than resignation at the event. Orochimaru sits up with a wince and prods his ribs experimentally.

Broken.

Tsunade tuts and rolls her eyes, temper abating with the help of Shizune's furious mutterings and the sensation of everyone's eyes on her. Jiraiya's laughter finally dies out as he makes his way to Tsunade's student, and Tsunade kneels down beside Orochimaru, quickly healing the breaks in his ribs with the practice of a thousand patients. He grits his teeth and swallows back the blood that pools on his tongue and her brow knots, concentration etched into lines on her eternally youthful face, as the last bone knits itself back into place. Her fingers brush against the fabric covering his ribs, tapping him there lightly and seems satisfied when he doesn't hiss or glower.

“He'll pay for your cart,” she throws over her shoulder at the civilians, wandering towards where Shizune waits, foot tapping against the ground impatiently.

Orochimaru chokes on his tongue.

**Author's Note:**

> uh... finally? This thing has been sitting on my gdocs at the same point for a year pretty much. >>
> 
> Shamelessly un-beta'd.
> 
> Come say hi to me at tumblr: (( rossealina.tumblr.com ))


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